


Walk My Way

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-11-24
Packaged: 2019-02-06 03:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12809100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Bellamy thought the dorm would be quiet with everyone at home for Thanksgiving, until he gets woken up by a sleepwalker in the middle of the night.





	Walk My Way

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an anon on tumblr

Bellamy wouldn’t say he’s particularly bummed about missing out on his family Thanksgiving. For one thing, his family is just him and O, and they get dinner together all the time. For another thing, he has a lot of issues with the historical significance of the holiday. He isn’t all that torn up that O decided to go to her boyfriend’s festivities to meet his family.

He _is_ a little pissed to be woken up at three in the morning by the microwave timer going off in the kitchen next door to his dorm room. Repeatedly. And not going off.

Shoving a pillow over his head, he tries to block out the sound or ignore the infernal beeping, but after several minutes of no change he groans and heaves himself out of bed.

He’d known he wasn’t alone in the dorm. As the floor RA he wouldn’t have been needed here if there weren’t students who had signed up to stay. But he hadn’t expected to run into any of the residents, much less run into them at three in the morning.

But when he staggers into the kitchen, no one is in there. And when he opens the microwave, it too is empty.

“Real funny,” he grumbles, mentally cursing whatever freshman had thought this was a clever prank.

He turns off the kitchen light and stumbles back into the hallway, stopping short when he sees her.

Clarke Griffin is probably his favorite resident. She’s both smart enough not to get caught with illicit substances in the dorm, and lawful enough not to get written up for anything else. Moreover, she’s in the seminar he’s taking for his Philosophy credit and she never pulls any punches. When she really gets going, telling off the pretentious assholes in their class, it’s a sight to behold.

Doesn’t hurt that she’s a sight to behold anyway, all curves and blue eyes and a challenging smirk he wants to taste.

If asked, he would have assumed she’d go home for the holidays. She seems like the All-American girl from the All-American family who would religiously enforce such traditions. Instead, she’s standing in the hall, staring blankly ahead of her in an oversized sweatshirt and tiny pajama shorts that give him pause.

“What’s going on, Princess?”

She doesn’t turn at the sound of his voice, doesn’t really react at all.

“Clarke?” Bellamy says, taking another step toward her. She does turn now, her gaze vacant like he’s never seen it. Spooky, almost. Worrying, definitely. The lurch in his chest is a surprise. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know where the exit is,” she says, voice bland. “Was that the fire alarm?”

“No, that was the microwave.” He waves a hand in front of her face. “Seriously, you’re kind of creeping me out here. You sure you’re okay?”

“Is there a fire?”

“No, it’s–” He pauses. “Are you asleep?”

“We’re supposed to leave if the fire alarm goes off.”

“Uh… yeah,” he says, slow. “That’s right. But in this case I think it would be safest if you go back to your room. Back to bed.”

“Okay.” She walks past him and Bellamy exhales in relief, turning to watch her go. Ideally, she can make it on her own. Otherwise he’ll have to find some way to wake her, which–

“Hey, wait,” he says, blinking as he realizes where she’s actually going. “Hold up, Princess. That’s my room!”

By the time he gets to his doorway, Clarke has already climbed into his bed and is tugging the covers up over herself. She releases a contented sigh as she nestles down into the warm spot where he had been, burying her face half in a pillow and mumbling something he doesn’t catch.

“Of course,” he sighs, grabbing a blanket and moving his stack of laundry from the spare bed to his desk chair. He’s never used it, since as an RA he doesn’t have a roommate, but he has to admit it’s coming in handy right now.

Clarke’s hair fanning across his pillow is the last thing he sees before he closes his eyes, and he has to think she looks pretty much like she belongs there.

* * *

A pillow hitting him in the face wakes him abruptly and he starts, jolting up in the spare bed and whacking his elbow on when he forgets which side the wall is on.

“What?” He asks, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Um… hi?” Clarke’s voice brings him back, though he figures she probably feels more disoriented than he does.

“Shit. Hi.” He clears his throat, voice raspy with sleep, and fumbles for his glasses. “Hi,” he says again when he can see her, smiling sheepishly.

“Hi,” she says, smiling slightly with eyebrows raised. “How’d I end up in here?”

“You were sleepwalking last night?” It comes out as a question, but she nods like it confirms her suspicions. “I tried to get you to go back to bed, but–”

She groans and buries her face in her sweatshirt-sleeve-covered hands. “I’m so sorry. I totally hijacked your bed.”

“Don’t worry about it. I have an extra.”

“Yeah, but– Sorry.”

“Clarke, it’s fine.” He smiles when she looks up and her shoulders slump in relief. A brief silence elapses, both of them just smiling at each other tentatively. “I would’ve thought you’d go home for Thanksgiving,” he says at last.

“My mom got married this summer, and they went to do Thanksgiving with his mother.” She shrugs. “They invited me but I’ve got a bunch of tests next week so I figured I’d just stick around here. And– steal your bed, apparently.”

He snorts. “And here I assumed it wasn’t premeditated.”

“You know what they say about assuming.”

“Yeah, I’m already an ass.” He runs a hand through his hair, smiling at her again. “It’s really not a big deal. You’re welcome anytime.”

“In your bed?” She asks, amused. Bellamy feels his face color.

“I mean– I didn’t– You–” He says, flustered, and her giddiness grows into laughter.

“It’s a pretty nice bed,” she says, grinning. “I could come back.”

“Yeah?” He exhales. “I, uh–”

“I mean,” she interrupts. “In a perfect world you would be in it too…”

A grin overtakes his face.

“You really think trying to squeeze two people in that bed is better than–”

Clarke laughs. “Quit fishing and get over here.”

When he gets there she twists her fingers in his sleep shirt, pulling him down and on top of her in one clumsy but hopefully endearing move. They’re both laughing into the kiss as he catches himself, noses bumping, his glasses knocking her in the forehead, but they get the hang of it pretty quick.

“Think I could persuade you to hang around for another few hours?” He murmurs against her lips. “We can go track down a Thanksgiving lunch of some sort, but this girl woke me up in the middle of the night so I’m pretty tired–”

She laughs and slips her hands under his shirt, pressing her palms against the warmth of his back.

“What a jerk move.”

“Right?” He kisses her again. “At least she’s cute.”

“At least there’s that.”


End file.
